Most pertinent is the fact that I still hold the same position as the last time I shared my thoughts on hair. Actually, I think my experiences of late have only added to my belied that hair is helpful in innumerable ways. Among them are things I have heard of, but not experienced to the degree I have recently.
Have you ever felt something coming for years? Have you heard someone tell a story of their own life and felt like they were talking about something you would yet experience? Have you ever felt as though you could see a path being laid out in front of you and you didn't want to walk it, but knew you would regardless of how much you may dislike it?
All of those experiences have visited me in various ways and for different experiences in my life. I've felt them all come together concerning my choice just a bit more than a week ago to shave my head. Number three guard. My hair was long enough to hang past my bum, yall! Number three guard.
I've been writing a LOT lately. I promise this is pertinent to the hair thing... just give me a sec and you'll see.
I love writing and have gone through spurts of great productivity before... but nothing like this recent laying out of realities that are only real in my own head. The characters have arisen from a dream in three parts the morning of October 15th, I think. The overarching story has been developing in me since I was first preggie with Ria (my eldest who is almost twelve now!).
When I say I've been productively writing... I've had many ten-thousand word days since the end of October when I really started writing on the story. Even a few twenty-thousand word days! Thus far (and I haven't been able to write on it much since the discovery) I've compiled about three novels worth of words, assuming an average novel is sixty-thousand words long. I realize I may not keep all of those words... but the scope of this story has always been epic... definitely series-type stuff. Now with three novels already written... it's just coming to fruition.
So what does this have to do with shaving my head? Okay... okay....
Well, Tuesday Novemeber 24th (and dang it I just realized I didn't call a brother to sing 'happy birthday' to him because of this upsetting "find"....) I found a louse. Not just anywhere... but on me. Well, really... in my hair. I was shocked and upset. Yet not.
I searched the heads of the three children home with me (two were out with Daddy) and found lice on each of them. Dang it! I knew, because we've done this dance before, that if the three I had with me housed lice, the other two surely did. So... I felt the press of all the preparation... years of whispers and 'knowings'....
Two roads rose up in my mind's eye. One involved my desperate effort to retain my tresses and the time requirement such an endeavor would mean. I already knew the next ten days to two weeks would be full of conditioner treatments, picking lice from heads, ridiculous laundry washing, nit picking... Oh, the torture! And adding my own head into the mix would mean more time... and how would I pick through my own hair? Honestly... that's just not likely to work out well.
The other option was cutting my hair. And by cutting, I mean shaving. I saw this as a way to reduce, at least, the conditioner treatment time consumed on myself (and money spent on said conditioner, which is no small consideration given our circumstances of late). My hair was around three feet long... maybe more... so the amount of conditioner and plastic wrap necessary to deal with the darn bugs on me would be... well, ridiculous is an understatement.
So, I shaved my head. Not as completely as I shaved my son, Jmy... I took his down to no-guard. I used a three on me.
Funny little guy! I know he thought I looked weird. Pretty sure he actually said that word to describe me. And then, after I'd cut all his hair off he asked me at least three times, "Mama, do I look weird?" Each time I stopped, looked at him, and considered. When I answered I told him some version of, "You look like my handsome Jmy-boy with no hair. Not weird. Just my Jmy." He was satisfied after the third query.
My husband didn't deal with the shock of seeing his shorn wife very well. At least, not for my vanity.
One daughter (who was away with Daddy while Mama cut all her hair off) told me right off that she liked it and told me I was beautiful. Kat. My sweet exuberant Kat.
Tea, my seven-year old... well, she was WAY less tactful or encouraging, "Mama! What did you DO? You look wee-eird! I mean, you seriously look WEIRD!" Yeah... thanks kid.
I don't have many mirrors around our place. Actually, most of them are on vehicles, honestly. There's one in our house... medicine cabinet mirror. Right now I'm really glad. But it was a bit shocking to see myself for the first time in a real mirror.
You'd definitely know I'm related to my brothers and Dad right now! Mannish. Yes, definitely. Tranny... probably could be mistaken as one. I'm pretty sure I was stared down by a group of guys who thought I was a man dressing as a woman. That's probably the worst reaction so far.
The second worst could be considered nice... or positive, but unfortunately not by me... It's the really nice way some gay girls treated me when previously they've never paid me any mind. Butch. Yes... I look butch.
Funniest of all... I realized only just recently that I'm turning forty in a couple weeks and now I look like I'm having a mid-life-crisis! Good grief!
So... if you see a fat chick (preggie, too... but that's not altogether apparent since I'm fat) who looks mannish or butch... and she's got a bunch of kids... maybe she's not crazy or gay or tranny ... maybe she just wanted to get back to her writing and had to take time off to deal with lice.